I Put His Balls Back In My Purse, Where They Damn Well Belong! Yeah…”She’s Baaack”.

I must be feeling  better because I’ve turned into a screeching bitch whose voice my husband informed me this morning could cut glass, as he lay on the coach rubbing his hands vigorously over his face, trying to ward off the headache he had from a hangover that I was now contributing to. Know what I did? I GOT LOUDER! I have mastered run-on sentences and the ability to annoy even the most patient participant in a conversation, and given that the sound of my voice is anything but slight have been known to bring a grown man down to his knees pleading for me to stop talking. Yes, it’s that kind of voice. Backed by a bad attitude this can be excruciatingly painful for the recipient of my anger. The recipient this morning happened to be the Old Man. 

I really don’t know if he’s dumb as a box of rocks or simply don’t care, but he’s been with me long enough to know not to take advantage of me when I’m emotionally weak or in a sensitive state and can’t fight back, because I eventually will at some point excuse myself from the pity party, wipe away the remaining tears, chin-up, back straight, move forward, and am once again a force to be reckoned with. He knows this because it’s happened many times in our seven year relationship, and end result is never pretty when he does. As I said…he’s either just plain stupid or doesn’t give a shit. Neither excuse would fare well for him, as I don’t care.

It occurred to me last night just how much distance he’s gained on me since my depression first began several months ago, by how far he’s willing to push me with his assumptions of what I will be willing to put up with. And I admit, I don’t notice how inconsiderate he is, or how badly he takes  me for granted when I’m depressed, because well…I’m writhing in my own misery, a bit preoccupied at the time keeping my head above water so I don’t go under, trying to find reasons to want to keep breathing and muster up the strength to pull myself back to what I consider to be ‘normal’ for me–albeit different to what anyone else would consider normal, I’m sure–and dealing with his ‘petty shit’ is simply not my top priority. IT IS NOW! I’m not feeling quite as sick anymore.

The Old Man was gone all day yesterday running (typical of a Saturday) while I sat home alone. Not a problem. I’m used to it by now. He came home, as usual said nary a word to me, grabbed a beer, and headed out towards the garage leaving me alone again. I believe I made some comment to him about how nice it would be if he spent some time with me once in a while that went completely unnoticed by him. After, the most I saw of him was when he crossed through the dining room into the kitchen MANY TIMES to get a new beer, eventually closing up the garage and venturing up to his ‘private’ man cave to listen to his music. It was after ten when he stumbled down the stairs, reached for the front door knob, and I stopped him to ask what he was doing now. As nonchalantly as you please he told me that his buddy was coming over and they were going to drink in the garage. When I came unglued, asked him why he wanted to be married if he wasn’t the least bit interested in spending time with me, instead of taking that as a sign that perhaps he should call his buddy, cancel the little soiree they had planned, and park his butt on the couch next to me, he walked out the door just as arrogant as you please. For a moment I found myself sighing and willing to let it go like I do and have every weekend for months. For a moment! He knew the time for taking liberties with me and my sickness was over when I threw the words “You’re turning into a damn drunk and this shit is 90% of our problem.” and hurled the remaining 12-pack of beer onto the garage floor which sent cans scattering everywhere, and stomped back out.  Now you have an idea of why my voice could ‘cut glass’ this morning. 

Yeah, I’m not feeling quite so sick anymore…which I’m sure will come as a blessing to most of you who’ve been reading my blog all along and being forced to participate in my pity party. Sully’s illness and death is over and I’m trying to put it behind me. My youngest son is in school, doing well enough without me, and I’m coming to terms with the fact that he’s becoming an adult and I have to let him go. The dreadful heat of summer is over, I’m finding the Fall weather to be most pleasant, have started making plans for some sewing and crocheting projects I want to start this winter to occupy myself, and am beginning to find things to look forward to again. I’m beginning to feel like LOU again.

“Behind every great man is a greater woman.” I bitched non-stop for about a half an hour on his poor behavior starting from the onset of my depression. I have a very long memory. I forget little when it annoys me. He attempted to hog-tie my attitude back into submission, but it didn’t work. Eventually I let him be, ignored him as I began working on this piece (and yes, in case any of you wonder, he knows exactly what I write about him, because I have absolutely no problem letting him read it. If he don’t want his dirty laundry aired, then he should stop playing in the damn mud, is my theory), only to find him trying to get my attention by pulling gently on my ponytail, asking for a smooch–which I refused to give him–and basically sucking up BIG TIME. I couldn’t help thinking as I watched him smile and trying to joke with me, that maybe he saw my being a bitch as a good sign that all was well with the world, and we could now get back to the business of living and being us again. Being us again. Hmm… If this is what he’s comfortable with, what does that mean exactly?

32 thoughts on “I Put His Balls Back In My Purse, Where They Damn Well Belong! Yeah…”She’s Baaack”.

  1. Welcome back Lou! I missed ya lots! Remember, there is something SERIOUSLY wrong with the “Y” chromosome, so it’s not totally his fault 😉

    1. I missed you too, Jodi!
      And he’s an asshole and deserves everything he gets from me right now, I say. Imagine him taking advantage of poor, frail me while I was down and out. You didn’t buy the frail part, did ya? Okay, maybe he didn’t either. Still….he’s an ASSHOLE!

  2. *claps* Way to put your foot down! Sometimes you just need to explode to get your point across, especially when it comes to the man-half in your relationship!

    1. I seen that. Thank you. I was just reading your latest post and happened upon it. Trying to decide whether I’m going to take the time to pass it on, or just continue working on getting through all my subscriptions and subscribers for now. I know if I just let it go that everyone will understand. Trying to readjust to blogging life again.

  3. Glad to hear you’re feeling more like “you” again, Lou. I’d be the last person to suggest you rattle the relationship with your guy, but how’s chances of not depending on him for company, but taking yourself off to town to do something nice for yourself when he heads out to hibernate in the garage? Your happiness shouldn’t depend entirely on him.

    1. I wish I could Carol. Problem is three and a half years ago I lost my license to a DUI. I’d been laid up on the couch with Sciatica problems literally for months, and when I finally started feeling better I kept asking him to take me out to do something and he refused. One night I finally left on my own, met a girlfriend for drinks, had a few too many, and got pulled over on the way home. He wouldn’t help me pay for the courses required to get it back, help me with my heavy fines, or anything. He found a new way to keep me home permanently. I managed to do most of it myself slowly, and he finally paid for my drunk driving course just this past year, so I’m finally in a position now where I should be able to get it back soon. For three and a half years I have been stranded in the middle of the country, seven miles from the nearest small town where I have no friends, and almost an hour from my family and friends. No one wants to come out to pick me up and I can’t get to them. Not that it’s stopped him. He can come and go as he pleases, and knows whenever he comes home here I am. Wonder why I’m depressed now? I just need to get my car going and get my license back, then decision making will be much easier for me.

        1. Yeah…don’t I know it. I’ve been living this way for quite a while now. I keep telling him he’s controlling, but he thinks his way is ‘normal’. Baffles the mind, huh? I don’t know about happiness happening, hon. I think I’m on the downside of this relationship. Time will tell I guess.
          Yeah, I’m going to have to make a point to read that. Maybe I should email it to him. Ha..ha.. God knows he won’t talk to me.

    1. Me too….Me too… Thank you! Don’t know about the beautiful part though. Man, I look like hell lately, Donna. This has really taken a toll on my face, don’t know what I was thinking the last time I colored my hair…Ugh! I think I’m going to say “Fuck it!” when it comes to keeping my hair really light to blend in better with the gray, and go into a more natural ash blonde. The color I have now is reeeeeally washing out my skin. And given that I haven’t done shit to take care of it lately, that sure doesn’t help. I think I’m in need of a clay mask, a different hair color, and just all around pamper Lou day. I gotta go into your recent Sexy Sundays if you’re still having them and see what ideas you might have.

    1. Yeah…yeah…what you just said! Ha..ha..
      I am feeling better. I can tell when the piss and vinegar starts flowing through my veins again. I’m going to take today to get some shit done, and tomorrow I’m going to spend trying to catch up a little with all of you. Just dying to hear what you’ve been spouting off about since I’ve been away. You and your clever little mind……

  4. I don’t know the ins and outs of your marriage, who had done what, or how you interact on a daily basis, but I know that men need alone time and lots of it. If you’ve turned into a screeching bitch like you said, I would hang out in the garage and drink beer too PRAYING my buddy would rescue me.

    1. Awww…the hubby has a supporter. ((applause))
      “Men need alone time and lots of it.” Hmmm…isn’t that what they refer to as bachelorhood?
      FYI: He works, comes home and lays on the couch or goes to his garage till it’s time to retire for the evening. He has more fucking alone time than most single men! On the weekends he’s usually at his dads farm during the day, and hanging with friends at night. I didn’t get married to be alone. He was just one of many swinging dicks that was paying attention to me when I met him. As far as him running from my bitching…what came first the chicken or the egg? Perhaps I didn’t start bitching till after he started ditching me. Hmmm…makes you think, huh?

      1. I totally understand the chicken and the egg. Situations like this scare me from getting married. If he does that every day of the week, then that is not healthy for a marriage, but screaming isn’t either…

        1. Do yourself a favor….DON’T GET MARRIED! Life is much easier when you only have you, and your needs that need to be met. I was never ‘lonely’ when I was alone. And in case you haven’t heard, the rusty wheel gets the grease. Sometimes you just gotta make a little noise to raise the bar and makes things easier.
          Hmm…thought I was gonna have a pissing contest with you. Well, you’re no fun. 😉 Ha..ha..

          1. Haha, no no, I’m logical and sensible. I maybe naive, but until I find someone that is willing to work as hard for a marriage as I am, I’m going to revel in my bachelorhood. My belief in a marriage is each person should fulfill each others needs, but I’m sure that only works on paper…

            1. Pardon me for piping in on this one, but a marriage should not be hard work! It should be about give and take and loving each other enough to work through your differences. It’s about communicating and being able to feel comfortable enough with all your flaws and insecurities to bare yourself and not be judged for it or have someone play on your weaknesses. Above all, it’s about respect for one another — as people, not just a partner. I could go on for several pages on this, but I would rather just give you the most important parts. Are you with me on this, Lulu?

              1. Yes, I am hon. Hmm..good thing skeletonfingers backed off or we may have had to tag team him. Ha..ha.. Noooo, not the two of us!!!
                I know you think I should have bailed long ago, but this is me making sure I have absolutely no regrets trying everything I possibly can first. Yeah I know, no one would’ve said boo if I would’ve left five years ago, huh? Sucks to be fucking me most of the time.
                I love ya, Pandora Patty. Thanks for chiming in, Babe. Your opinion is always welcome in my litter box! Miss yooooou!!

  5. Welcome back. The bitch is back. Yay!
    Re the old man: They really don’t have a clue do they? Glad you boy is back in school. How is your daughter? Do you know? Sending lots of good wishes through the ethernet to you.

    1. Hi Sue. Yep, feeling much better. I know…I know…Yay!
      That damn man has got me so fired up I could just wring his neck. I’m real tired of his phone blowing up constantly with his friends on the other end, the constant barrage of his company on the weekends, and the drinking while I sit confined to this house day after day, week after week, and cater to his every whim. Did he honestly think I’d let this shit go on forever. DOES HE NOT KNOW ME AT ALL?!!!
      The daughter called me yesterday and it’s all love…love…love again. ((sigh)) I told her that I know the game of abuse, I know the excuses and denial, and that it’s nothing more than a pattern, but if she’s happy for now….at least she has right now. She was so upset. She was called out of work because my granddaughter jumped off the couch and fractured a bone in her leg. Right after my daughter had paid up for her dance lessons. She didn’t want her to be disappointed. I told her to tell her she’d be back on her ballerina toes in no time. Just like me….ya know! 😉

    1. Annoying is right. Sooo very tired of being Ms Nice all the time. Hey thanks for the subscription. It lets me know that I’m not alone and there are still a few of us ‘real’ women out there.

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